Courtesy
by The Qilin
Summary: Cross/Miranda. NSFW. Oneshot. Complete. Miranda is quite the underappreciated person. She lives for the words "thank you." Cross Marian gives her that, and more.


_Characters: Cross/Miranda_

_Warnings: Sex._

_Author's Note: I've never written this pairing or given it much thought. But I enjoyed writing this._

* * *

**Courtesy**

"I'm sorry!" is Miranda's most commonly used phrase. It is an automatic response, like breathing. Even if it's not truly her fault, she still says it.

She still keeps trying.

Her greatest fault is that she will always try. Fail one million times, and maybe after that, you'd succeed. Why? For it is the words she wishes to hear the most, the simple, humble "thank you." She thought she'd never hear them, until Allen and Lenalee both said to her with smiles on their faces.

The Order gives her hope. She will never be fired, never be kicked out. Unless she loses her Innocence, she will always have this job. And the people? Almost infinitely patient. They helped her understand her Innocence, bandaged wound after wound, and pushed her synchro rates up and made a difference. They tell her "welcome home" when she returns. And they always thanked her.

Miranda knows from others that The Order wasn't always like this. She knows that she could die at any time. But it is also done much for her, a useless person, whom the world has unwanted. Her family turned their backs. Her neighbors scorned her. Here? She had a place. She is an Exorcist.

For every apology she makes, there are more than enough people who say "thank you" to make up for her faults.

She is important.

She matters.

It makes her smile.

The only times it is hard is when she brings back a person and knows they will die when she deactivates. It hurts when they say thank you. It breaks her heart when they don't hate her. They encourage her. They tell her to win.

Miranda assumes she is weak and delicate. She cannot "fight". She is a supporting Exorcist who needs a shield. Is that weakness or delicacy? It takes strength to give time and back it back. It takes energy to activate. It takes strength to release an Innocence and watch a person's injuries return, or watch them die.

Truly, she is underappreciated.

**_-|||:|||-_**

Cross is the polar opposite of Miranda. Confidence leaks from him. In his footprints, he leaves the mark of surety and calm. He says what it wants and lets people say what they want of him. They're jealous, anyway.

But of what?

For starters, the fact he controls two Innocence types. His own, Judgment. And then Maria's Grave. It's forbidden and he said "fuck the system" and uses them both anyway.

Second, he's a General. That means he's over 100% in synchronization and he destroyed countless Akuma.

Third, he's a lady's man. All of them fall for him. Such a charmer.

There are few people who can compare to him. He's amazing and he knows it. But he's not God and he can't do everything. He makes calls and sometimes they're bluffs that don't go through, and other times they do. He butts heads with Central over decisions. They disagree. He gets in trouble.

He is still better than Central. He believes that Exorcists are humans, not soldiers tossed onto a field, dying off one by one. Yet he still makes tough calls. Like possibly sacrificing one Miranda Lotto. He knows his idiot apprentice will probably make it in time, but there had been a chance he wouldn't.

The Generals would've killed one of their own comrades.

A good comrade, too, who had excellent abilities.

Cross had hesitated. He really had. And he hides his relief when his apprentice shows up. He easily takes that insult of how repulsive he is. She's alive, isn't he? But she really did do a damn fine job with the Egg. Even on the verge of being drowned and shot. And when she'd woken up later, she'd protected people.

One good turn deserves another, after. And Cross does say his thank you's. Quite whole-heartedly, too.

**_-|||:|||-_**

Miranda likes wearing pants. Before the Order, she was constantly in skirts and dresses that more often than not, tangled her legs and caused her to trip. No one ever thought to ask her if a change in wardrobe were needed. Her uniform had shocked her at first; she nearly fainted and called it scandalous, until she remembered that Lenalee Lee had a uniform than entirely showed off her legs, and so pants were less frightening than those short skirts.

Besides, there was a freedom to move. She tripped less. She fell less. She could take steps and not have to constantly look down.

Stairs are still the devil, however. Be it the old Headquarters or the new, there are so many stairs and steps that she always got lost and would panic, and trip.

Tonight is one of them. One late night mission, and she is stumbling back. She remembers to go up three flights of stairs, turn three corners… and then she finds herself lost.

She almost screams, if not for the lateness of the hour and the shame of being lost yet again. She wanders for a bit, trying to get her bearings, hoping someone is there…

And then it happens.

Stairs.

It's like tripping on air, and then gravity takes over and you tumble. Sometimes you go head over heels, other times you roll, and still other times you hit your chin and then the rest of your body. Miranda Lotto has the talent to do all those, shrieking and closing her eyes as she thinks this is such a sad way to die—

And then someone catches her. A solid person who doesn't even make a sound.

She keeps her hands over her face, quite sure that red is leaking from between her fingers, be it blush or blood. At least she has pants and no one gets a view up her skirt. But there's only the quiet, amused laughter of her savior.

Miranda takes one look and does indeed faint.

_Did it have to be him._

_Why._

**_-|||:|||-_**

She's a little calmer when she wakes up in her own bed. And, she supposes that it's not everything one is helped by a General.

Cross Marian sits in a corner, smoking and looking quite comfortable and content.

"H-hello," she offers, voice shaking as she sits up.

"Evening." So very casually.

"…why are you here? You could have brought me back and left."

"Because I was looking for you."

"Oh…" Her head spins. Did she hit it on something? She must've. That would account for the fluttering in her stomach and her shaky nerves and—

"Are you all right?"

"I—yes! Yes, of course!" She squeaks, going pale.

Cross sighs a little, and pours something into a glass. She wonders if he carries a bottle of wine wherever he does. He hands her the glass. "Here."

Miranda blinks.

He takes a sip and hands it to her. "It's only wine."

She takes two gulps of it. It's been a while since she last had a drink. Sometimes it steadied her, while other times it depressed her or made her say strange things. She hopes it's the former and not the latter.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Cross returns to his seat, still smoking.

Silence hangs in the ear, heavier than the smoke. She continues drinking until the glass is empty, whereupon she sets it down and asks him why he is here.

"Because I want to be. Do I need more of a reason than that?"

"I suppose not." A slow blink, and then she smiles. Maybe she ought to keep a bottle of wine around…

"Did you forget your own birthday?"

The happy sparkles in her mind disappear as she looks at him.

She nearly shrieks again. "I'm sorry!" She shoves the covers off her bed and stands. "I'm sorry I—" And her world pitches.

He catches her again and puts her on her feet. She looks up at him, ready to break into tears.

"You don't have to apologize for everything little thing."

"I'm sorry, it's…it's habit."

"So I heard." He has not let go of her arms. "It's a rather horrible habit."

"I'm s—" Miranda catches herself. "I know."

Years of saying it over and over, begging for forgiveness unless people were tired of giving it to her. Years of wishing for recognition. Years of wanting that "thank you" and just a smile instead of people screaming at her.

"I'm very much a self-deprecating person. I lost at least one hundred jobs, and the only thing I have accomplished is being an Exorcist. I am too nervous, too scared, and I can't even fight for myself." She laughs weakly, thinking out her last ventures. "I'm more a hindrance. Even while moving." Oh, the humiliation of how she'd spilled a cat potion on Lenalee and Bookman, and then gotten bitten and bit Marie… "They should lock me up all the time until they need me for a mission…and keep a guard on me so that I don't hurt anyone…"

"Stop there." Cross puts out his cigarette, and with practiced ease, flicks it into the wastebin. "And here I thought being about my idiot apprentice would help improve your thoughts about yourself."

"Allen?" She has smile. "He does so much and receives so little in return. He's quite marvellous."

"And still an idiot."

"But—"

"You're at least an honest idiot."

"Is—is that a compliment, General?"

"Yes, it is." She looks at him and see there is no sarcasm in his face.

"You were saying it's my birthday?"

"Tomorrow, actually. In a few hours."

"Oh." She glances at the clock and notes that it is ten something. "But what does you being here have anything to do with my birthday?"

"Well, for starters, you can sit down so that you don't fall over again."

She sits, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap.

"Second, whatever happens in this room stays in this room."

"Understood."

"I'm serious. No one hears of this. I'm actually suppose to be locked in, but the guards are so incompetent it hardly matters."

"…"

"Is that clear?"

"Ah—very! Very clear, Sir!" She nearly salutes, but she forgets which hand…

"Third thing—thank you."

"Sir—" Her heart stops and she thought she would faint. But instead she swallows and tastes the rich wine flavor lingering in her throat, and knows she is still awake. She makes the strangest sound as her mouth drops open.

"I said thank you." Cross ruffles his hair, shaking his head. "I guess they were not lying when they said being complimented might send you to a hospital."

Cross Marian just said thank you.

_Cross Marian._

_Said._

_Thank you._

Let that sink in. Or rather, let that thought squirm its ways in, trying to settle there and digging claws in until you have to accept it.

"B-b-but for what," Miranda sputters. "What? How? When? Why? And are you sure you're not mistaking me for something else? I don't think I—"

He holds up a hand. "Sh."

"…"

"For what you did with the Akuma Egg."

"Oh. I don't remember it well." She nearly suffocated, and then woke up when there was an explosion and she had immediately activated Time Out. Then everything passed in a blur until Marie told her to stop, and then she passed out again. "I was only doing my duty."

"So you were. And it's my duty to say thank you. Which brings me to my last point." He bows. "My apologies for choosing to sacrifice you for the sake of the Akuma Egg."

"…I beg your…pardon?"

"Did no one tell you?" At her incredulous look, Cross sighs. "The Noah that tried to drown you. She put you directly on the Egg in hopes of deterring us from destroying it. We made the call to shoot anyways. I knew my idiot apprentice would make it in on time, but still…if he hadn't been in time, I'm sure plenty more people would have wanted my head on a platter."

His voice sounds so distant from her. It's rare for anyone to say thank you, much less apologize to her.

"So as an apology, and because it is also a sort of thanks, and because it is your birthday, I'm offering to sleep with you."

She has to lie down at that point. There is a silly smile pasted on her face. And then she begins to laugh. Not loudly, but enough that her shoulders shake and tears come.

There might be wine, but she has to be dreaming.

Why else would Cross be saying outrageous things to her? Like _thank you_ or _apologies_, or _sleeping_.

"I'm sorry…" she wipes her face. "I don't understand."

"You don't have to. All I need is answer of whether or not you accept."

"What if I turn you down?"

"Then I'd bid you a good night."

"And if…I accepted?" She decides to look at him.

The smirk on his face causes heat to creep into her face.

"Ooooh…let me think." Miranda turns over and covers her face. She rocks back and forth. She tries to think. She bites her lip and says "yes" and "no" several times.

She has never imagined this, or even though about this. Not ever.

It's insane that he is the one to come to her, asking if she would like it.

She trembles a little, and then decides to make her choice. She turns back and swallows her trepidation.

"Y-yes. I would like to. I'm…" she almost says sorry. "I'm ready."

He holds a pleased expression on his face as he sits down next to her, the bed dipping under their combined weight. "I'll make it a night you will not ever forget, Miranda Lotto." He takes her hand and kisses the back of it, before he pushes her sleep up and kisses a trail up to her bicep.

It's all quite fast, the way he kisses until his lips are against her, and anything she thinks she ought to say or not say are forgotten.

It's a first kiss. Yes, at the age of twenty-seven. No one's bothered to kiss her before this. Like any other person, she's thought of it. Wondered. But it's been only a dream until this night.

She squeezes her hands together in her lap as Cross holds her to him, still kiss. It's like being in a dream, where you don't have to control anything and it simply happens, and when you wake up, you needn't worry about anything being different from normal.

It's a nice dream, she decides, when he unbuttons his shirt and pulls it off. And then he takes her hands and kneads them in his, but just as he's ready to slip her gloves off, the magic is broken.

"No, you can't take them off…" she has scars there. Ugly, puncture wounds.

"Why?"

"I don't like seeing them."

"Marred hands don't matter to me."

"Why not?"

"Because they're just hands. Can you move them? Can you feel with them? Then they're your hands and part of you."

She hasn't thought it of that way before. So when he moves to tug it off a finger, she nods and allows him too. Little by little, he pulls it off, and then it is gone. Her hands are bare and she nearly panics. She hates even sleeping without her gloves on. But Cross takes each finger and sucks on them, slowly, and then licks her scars until she is trembling all over.

"See, you're beautiful when you're not apologizing for every little thing." Lips trace over the disfigured skin. "I like hands that have seen work."

She ought to reply, but the words are stuck in her throat, so instead she numbly nods.

"May I?" He tugs at the hem of her turtleneck shirt.

"You may…" How many others has he disrobed, she wonders as he divests her of her top. No doubt, countless other women. They probably did better than her, too.

Her breasts fill his hands; he holds them and circles his thumbs over the nipples. She makes her first groans, the flush heightening in her cheeks. Never before have her breasts felt this sensitive. He touches her until she is crying out and shaking harder than ever, her body reacting.

"How do you…do that?"

"Listen to your body and what it tells you." A little _snap_ tells her he's gotten rid of her bra, just like that. "And then you'll know what you like."

"What I like?" She tenses as she watches him trail his finger down her stomach, resting on the button that closed her pants.

He unclasps the button. "That's what I tell everyone." The zipper sounds loud to her ears. He draws her pants down and tosses them again. Only her underwear is left.

"But I think you'll like this the most." He places his fingers against her, and just, ever-so-slightly, moves.

A thrill runs through her.

She gasps and her head nearly hits the wooden headboard of her bed. "Ah!"

Cross caresses again…and again…and again. Each time, she arches her head and shoulders. Her hips seem to move on their own, nudging into those fingers that were bringing her inexplicable pleasure that she is feeling for the first time. She is reduced to tears and whimpers by the time he strips her of her underwear. "Please…" she's not even sure what she's asking for anymore.

He kisses the top of her head and smoothes at her flyaway curls. "In good time," he whispers. He loosens his own clothing and steps out of it. Through a haze of pleasure, she can see his girth, and she blushes.

Miranda, like any other person, knows enough about sex to know what happens. She just wonders if that is actually going to fit into her. He seems to sense her anxiety.

"Don't look down if you're worried." Cross slicks his palm with his tongue, then wraps it around his cock, pumping it a few times. "But I can promise that it won't hurt."

She gulps and concentrates on his face as he leans over her. And surprisingly, he is right. There is discomfort, and she is very tense as he slips first the tip in and slowly moves until he is fully inside of her, but very little pain. Then he moves and she is slowly pushed back into pleasure. She bucks against him just as much as he presses into to her. She does not protest when he pulls her up and she is in his lap, shifting up and down on his shaft.

This sensation of being filled is new and strange, but the warm and the shivers through her groin and spine compensate for the strangeness. Sounds spill from her lips, ranging from _please_ to _oh_ and _aaah_ and _more, please_.

And then she reaches her climax, and he has to muffle her sounds as she comes with an intensity that leaves stars in her eyes, her heart pounding and her ears ringing. A rush of euphoric pleasure fills her as she moans into his hand, rocking into his lap. She is dimly aware of him coming as well a few seconds later.

"Gen…General," she gasps out. "you—"

"Shh."

She falls silent, her head against his shoulder. She is still naked and so is he. He is also still inside of her.

Out of habit, she nearly apologizes again, for not doing much for him. He really did most of the work. But she swallows that old phrase down.

"Did you like the apology?" she hears him ask.

"I did." Her voice is still shaking from the experience. "I did, General. Thank you. Thank you."

"And thank you. You were very good." He brushes at her hair and tips her face up for one more kiss before he slides out.

"I was?"

Cross waves a hand. "All beautiful women are good in bed. That's a fact."

Miranda sometimes can't tell if he's serious or not. But she does know what he just did. Cross, while a womanizer, chooses the people he sleeps with. He certainly thought about this.

And he'd just called her beautiful.

She lies in bed and watches him dress. She's a little sore, but mostly tired. And the alcohol buzzing in her is slowly wearing off. Thank the heavens for a good tolerance.

Before he leaves, he kisses her bare hand again. "Until some other time. It'd be your turn to seek me out if you would like it."

Her laughter is breathy. "I will…think about it."

The door closes, and the clock chimes midnight. She is now twenty-seven.

…another year older, and with maybe a little more confidence. It's not every day someone can say they have slept with Cross Marian. Not that she'd tell anyone, but it meant she had merit.

It meant one of the Generals respected her.

And Miranda got one of the best night's sleep she'd had for a long time.


End file.
